Bleed It Out
by angstylullaby
Summary: After a long time apart, Chloe writes an extremely heartfelt email for Beca regarding things from their past. Bechloe angst. Oneshot.


**This is my first Pitch Perfect fic. Bechloe, certainly, since they're my OTP. But it's very angsty, I must say, because of reasons I'd rather not mention. Past things that should remain that way, however, I felt inspired.**

**I hope you enjoy it!**

**I do not own Pitch Perfect or its characters.**

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**Bleed It Out **

_Dear Beca,_

_I can't even begin to describe how hard writing this is for me. Maybe it isn't a good idea. Maybe you'll consider it a 'dick move'. Scratch that; you'll __**definitely **__consider it a 'dick move'. But you have to understand that I can't simply leave all the things that have been slowly killing me inside unsaid. I guess it's pretty lame, but I need closure._

_The day I met you, at the activities fair, my life completely changed. In the brief moment that we talked, I couldn't stop looking at your navy blue eyes. I don't know, something irrational took over and, despite your extremely sarcastic attitude towards Aubrey and I, I was captivated. Actually, no. Not __**despite**__ the attitude, __**because**__ of it. There was just something about you that I needed to figure out. You know when you meet someone and your gut instantly tells you 'this person will be important to me'? Well, that's how I felt._

_And yet, I didn't see you again until that day in the showers. When I heard that beautiful voice echoing though the steam I immediately hoped it was you, so I couldn't help but to barge in to confirm it. Then we sang together and I sensed this connection. Something that I had never felt around anyone during my short life. You actually __**smiled**__ to me honestly, contradicting your previous reluctance to be around preppy girls like the ones that usually composed our acapella group. But of course Tom had to be there and ruin the moment (if I'm not mistaken, you seemed quite upset by that as well)._

_It surprised me when you showed up to the Bella auditions (delayed, but at least you were there). You didn't fail to impress me again with your originality and truthfulness when you sang. There was definitely something special in you. But I expected that spark, sincerely speaking. I think I was the only one who saw it at first contact, though. Aubrey was shocked, but, naturally, being who she was, she needed a little push from me to accept you in._

_Initiation night was not the most pleasant event for me, even though you probably thought the opposite then. Inside, I was confused. And scared. Confused was already a natural state of mine, since I had been dealing with the possibility that I was only into girls since High School. Scared was what I turned into when I finally found a girl that I most likely actually cared for, which meant I would probably have to come to terms with myself about my sexuality. That's why I was a little drunk when I talked to you. Drinking was not the wisest decision, though, considering I definitely acted a little too flirty. Alcohol was also the reason why I, once again, after seeing you talking to Jesse, hooked up with Tom. Well, alcohol and insecurity._

_It wasn't long until I finally decided to break off whatever it was that I had with him. Casual encounters could no longer fulfill me and I couldn't be stuck to that. They weren't __**real.**__ And I, for some reason, thought you were my 'something real'. So, obviously, whenever I saw you with Jesse, despite you guys being just friends, it would bring this sickening feeling to my stomach. He seemed to have been captivated by you as well ('stalker' would've been a good term to use, but I guess I won't). _

_At the same time, we somehow got closer among all the Bella rehearsals and the times we would hang out, just the two of us, in either our dorms, a coffee shop or that quiet spot on the university's garden that you so dearly enjoyed. It seemed you were drawn to me just as much as I was to you, although you didn't admit it in order not to risk your Badass DJ reputation. That didn't bother me, because you were gradually enabling to open up to me. You looked happy and refreshed. You even allowed my frequent hugs and cheek kisses (that I couldn't control, no matter how hard I tried). I can't not mention that Aubrey constantly tired to warn me about you. She noticed our interaction, of course she did; she's my best friend, after all, so I told her the truth. She brought it up that a rumor ran that you weren't straight, yet I shouldn't bring my hopes up, because you were also a declared loner. But at the time I didn't listen because I thought she was just being over-protective and obsessive about championship._

_By the time we reached Semi-finals, I was sure that what I felt for you wasn't simple attraction. It wouldn't just go away. I had fallen for you. Hard. Then you had that fight with Aubrey and our group nearly shattered. Suddenly, I was alone. You had left the Bellas and Aubrey wasn't really on speaking terms with me. She even told me my 'stupid crush' had doomed our victory. I had no one when I decided to get my nodes operated through spring break._

_Thankfully, not much time passed before things were fixed. You got back, feeling sorry for abandoning us when we most needed your help. Aubrey and I regained our bond. The Bellas were finally in harmony because of your newfound leadership. We were ready to win. And we did. Spectacularly, to say the least. I was thrilled and finally ready to tell you about my feelings._

_Then you and Jesse got together. I must say that was totally unexpected for me. I'd thought you were trying to send me some sort of message when we sang to each other at the pool before Finals. But, oh, well. I had to act tough and pretend that wasn't a total disappointment (unsuccessfully). –Perhaps you singing Just a Dream as a response to my Just the Way You Are was a prelude to what would settle later, but I only like to think of it this way because I'm a sucker for literature._

_I t would have helped if you hadn't completely astonished me by confessing you liked me at graduation. Actually, that would've been okay. What really messed things up was that we ended up kissing at my dorm when you stopped by as I packed my stuff. It might've been impelled by the fact that I had finished college and you would still be there for the following 3 years, but that didn't make it right. You were still with Jesse. You __**cheated on him**__ with me (insert 'The Sign' here). And I was too eluded to realize how dangerous everything had become. I couldn't think that there was a possibility I was getting myself into trouble. _

_Two anxious weeks later, you broke up with him and gave me a call. Luckily, I had chosen to go to grad school at Barden, so we could see each other all the time. I was exhaling happiness and was unable to avoid the naïve illusion that we would become this totally awesome aca-couple that would live happily ever after. If I hadn't let that build instead of using my brain, I probably wouldn't have made a big deal of you not wanting to tell people after a while that we were hooking up. Consequently, I wouldn't have heard from you that you weren't ready for anything serious. The fact is: you weren't. And I should have stopped to think what that meant. My heart won, however, and I agreed to let things flow. I swear I __**was**__ really determined to just wait and see what would happen. But, apparently, you lost your will to fight way before that. You started going back into your personal bubble and I panicked. Instinctively, I tried to reach out to you, but that only made you drift farther. You claimed you didn't want to end up hurting me. That you unavoidably fucked up everything in relationships, so it wouldn't work out. Thing is: I had already dwelled in too much. I was already aching. _

_My mind couldn't quite fathom all of that, because you'd made me believe at one point that you __**actually**__ loved me. Hell, you even __**said it**__ to me and I was aware that it wasn't something easy for you to do because of your past. Because of your parents. So it simply didn't make sense that all we did from then on was to retaliate one another. I pathetically refused to let go while you stubbornly (and wrongly) insisted that you were trying your best. Reality hit me that maybe I didn't know you at all. –Compare what you had shared with me so far and vice versa._

_Only to make things worse was the fact that, all of a sudden, yours and Luke's friendship gained an odd energy. I could sense that something was going on there, but I kept myself in denial. Aubrey told me she had seen you hit on him and get hit on by him and I didn't believe her. She was pissed and alert. She wanted to threaten you, to punish you, because technically we were still together. And I did…not…believe…her. How stupid am I, right?_

_A couple of weeks later, things were plainly weird between us at a party at the pool. You were utterly evasive and I could barely lay a finger on you, let alone kiss you. In contrast, Luke was indiscreetly your main focus of attention. My nerves were on the verge of exploding and I was __**so**__ done. It was too much anger. Too much hurt. Too much everything. Something happened between the two of you halfway though the night. You got mad at yourself. –I saw you kick the minibar with anger tears rolling down your face. - But you didn't bother to talk to me directly. You sent off Amy and Cynthia to __**lie**__ for you. Or maybe you lied to them and they told me what they __**thought**__ they knew. Not that it matters anymore because Aubrey managed to make Luke spit out the truth to her after some time of pretending that everything was fine. I won't ask you what went through your mind when it happened, though. I don't wanna know. I probably wouldn't understand, anyway, because you're too complicated and I'm too egoistic. It's not worth it to add new pain to my soul after all this time it took me to finally get over you. It's not worth all the sleepless nights. All the tears. All the trust issues you've given me. All the fear that I might have turned into another like you._

_I'd be lying if I said that I didn't catch me lost in thoughts of you everyday after we separated. It would be pointless to deny that I missed you terribly. Every bit of you. The brown hair. The blue eyes. The petite body. The witty attitude. The ironic smile. The alternative clothes. The dark make up. The ear spike. The oversized headphones. The passion for music. __**Everything.**__ Some people were constantly trying to change most of it; trying to mold you into some perfect Hollywood heroine (especially Jesse). I would've never asked you to change those things. Not even your flaws. Your fears. The times when you acted like a douche. To me, you were perfectly imperfect. I had never loved anyone like I loved you. The only thing I wanted was for you to grow up and be more accepting of the love that you deserved. That you __**deserve.**_

_So, here I am, 9 months later, writing this email from my new apartment, that's not coincidently an hour from Barden and right next to my new grad school. Some might say it's not too far. But, analyzing our busy lives, an hour does it. An hour is __**more than enough. **__You wanted to stay friends, against your natural antisocial character. Maybe it's also because everyone seems to have drifted from you after I left, with the exception of Amy. Don't get me wrong, Becs, I wish it didn't have to be this way. But keeping in contact with you –I mean anything besides the occasional Facebook comment or birthday text- is out of the question for me. It's too hard and I can't pretend we haven't got very disturbed history. I can't just be your friend when you clearly only seek me to tell me that you want to keep me in your life (only to fade out afterwards). Maybe after a couple of years we will meet somewhere and be able to start our friendship over. But, right now, I can't, since I've finally reached a reasonable level of comfort with who I am (I'm actually out to my family and almost everyone I know) and with what I do in a daily basis.-Not that I don't have bad moments anymore, but they're less frequent.- I'm sorry._

_I really do hope that you're happy and that you find yourself, you know. Don't give up on life. There are some great things aside from all the crap. The remainings of the bubbly me still believe that._

_ With care,_

_Chloe._

_PS: Never stop following your dreams. You're the best DJ I've_

Chloe stopped typing and stared blankly at her laptop screen, eyeing the last note she had left half-written with doubt. The remark sounded too complimentary. Old Chloe wouldn't have thought twice about it. Old Chloe would have sent a gigantic Facebook message, the majority of it filled with the most distinct emoticons and 'I love you's to her friend.

That was the unfortunate point, however. Beca wasn't her friend. She wasn't her lover. She wasn't her anything. That was in the past. Old, cheerful Chloe was in the past. She had explicated that in the sentimental, yet serious email.

With a ragged breath, she erased the extra sentence and pressed send. Then closed the laptop shut, got up from her bed and placed it on her computer desk. There was a buzz from her phone. Aubrey, needless to say, was checking up on her, as it was now accustomed.

**'How are you today, Chlo?'** Read the text. Chloe's brow furrowed. She had specifically requested to no longer be called that way by anyone. 'Chlo' was a nickname that had been assigned by…well, by Beca. Misfortune had made it catchy, however.

She proceeded to reply with a quickly elaborated 'I'm fine' just for the sake of her best friend's sanity (who, ironically, now infinitely worried about_ her_ sanity) before nonchalantly tossing the device on her bed. Tiredness was threatening to consume her. She had lots of projects to work on. She needed to be signing up for teaching jobs at schools. Who would want an English teacher who desperately needed a therapist, thinking more correctly?

She _knew_ she couldn't give in. She was trying. God, she was trying.

With slow steps, she walked towards the bathroom. A few seconds passed in which she simply stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her ginger waves were no more. They had disappeared under blonde hair-dye. Her blue eyes weren't as bright as they were when she was a Barden senior; dark rings could be seen under them. –She scoffed self-mockingly before opening the faucet and throwing a generous quantity of water on her face. It was unusually revitalizing.

She went back to her room with newly regained determination. There was no way she was going to lay in bed and feel sorry for herself. Something productive had to come out of that emotional wave. She would update her curriculum. She would write a short story. She might even start a blog. Anything to distract her from the bad and bring her back to who she used to be.

Her fingers were an inch away from her laptop's surface when she heard music coming from outside. Resonant. Inconvenient, even. Then her throat went dry and her stomach twisted as she recognized it.

It was David Guetta.

He was an artist that she used to adore. _Used to_. Before _her._ She froze on her spot, the song lyrics reaching her ears displeasingly.

_'Cause I'm falling to pieces_

_I'm falling to pieces_

_I'm falling to pieces_

Ironic. Distastefully ironic. Changing her mind, she retrieved her phone from the bed, deciding to call Aubrey. A comfortable presence was what she craved. The fierce woman answered almost immediately.

_"You're not fine, are you?"_

"No. I'm not."

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**I'll try to bring bubbly (and adorable) Chloe back on the next PP fic I decide to write, I promise. **

**It would be awesome to know what you guys think. Your comments will be greately appreciated.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~angstylullaby**


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